


Drawn to Danger

by CaptainWeasley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts, PWP, Smut, Young Minerva McGonagall, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 09:26:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5738371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainWeasley/pseuds/CaptainWeasley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Her heart was racing, and she was shivering with a kind of excitement that she hadn't even felt on a broomstick in a long time. She walked through the common room, forcing herself to breathe steadily. It wouldn't do to be caught, not now. She was on her way to an ill-advised and possibly dangerous meeting, and all because of a small note...</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drawn to Danger

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by [this wonderful fanart](http://slytherinfiend.deviantart.com/art/Tom-Riddle-s-Forbidden-Kiss-54128290). I know that Tom is supposed to be almost 10 years older than Minerva, but I've decided to ignore that since Minerva's age is never specified in the books, and I always imagined them to be about the same age. 
> 
> I read up on 1940s underwear for this fic, but I am no expert, so if I made any mistakes please tell me! If you're confused by my descriptions you can read up on 1940s lingerie [here](http://vintagedancer.com/1940s/1940s-lingerie-history).
> 
> I didn't tag this fic as underage because in the wizarding world they are both adults. In our world, however, 17 counts as underage, so if you don't want to read that here's your warning.

Minerva knew she shouldn't go, it was so wrong; but she couldn't help it. She had always been drawn to danger, and what she was about to do was more exhilarating than even her last Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. Her heart was racing, and she was shivering with a kind of excitement that she hadn't even felt on a broomstick in a long time. Flying was still one of her favourite activities, but she had gotten somewhat used to the wind in her hair and the cheering crowd, to Bludgers avoided by a hair's breadth and to goals scored at the last minute.

This was different. This was new. This was _thrilling_.

She walked through the common room, forcing herself to breathe steadily. It wouldn't do to be caught, not now.

"Hey Minny, where are you going?"

Minerva jumped at hearing Helen's voice, then remembered that she had to appear relaxed in order to avoid raising suspicion. She took a deep breath and turned around to face her fellow sixth-year with a smile on her face.

"Just off to the library, I wanted to start reading Magical Mysteries this evening and I forgot to bring it with me."

Helen nodded sympathetically. Everyone knew that Minerva McGonagall was a bookworm who spent half her day in the library—the one half she wasn't racing around the Quidditch pitch on her state of the art Cleansweep Four. 

"Good night then, I'm going to bed."

Helen smiled at her, then got up and started walking towards the girls' dormitories. Minerva let out the breath she'd been holding, then continued on towards the portrait hole. She almost didn't register the Fat Lady telling her not to come back too late, her nerves were really starting to flutter now.

She was on her way to an ill-advised and possibly dangerous meeting, and all because of a small note...

_you & me, classroom 7, 10pm._

There hadn't been a name, there didn't need to be. She knew exactly who the note was from, knew all the reasons she shouldn't go, but here she was, creeping along corridors, on the lookout for the caretaker and any teachers who possibly fancied a late-night stroll through the castle. She had bewitched herself so that her footsteps wouldn't be heard, but even so, it would be unwise to dismiss caution. Everything was so quiet, and her pounding heart seemed loud enough to wake up the whole school.

She very nearly forgot to jump a vanishing stair in one of the hidden passageways, then almost tripped over the edge of a carpet on the next landing. She couldn't remember ever having been this clumsy; her hands were shaking. If her fellow Gryffindors knew what she was about to do... They would be disgusted, and quite right, too. Somehow, the thought of it only added to her excitement.

She didn't have as much to lose as he did, though, with his whole following of Slytherins who looked up to him as though he was some sort of genius. And she supposed he was a genius, that was the whole reason why she was even drawn to him in the first place. He was dark and mysterious and he had an air of danger about him that she'd never felt in anyone else.

What if he didn't want what she thought he wanted? What if he was going to put a curse on her? She was an outstanding witch of course, but she knew that in a duel few could hope to rival _him_. She grinned. That just made the whole thing more thrilling, didn't it?

There was no-one there to help her, if he decided to turn on her. She hadn't even told Filius about the note, let alone her plan to follow its instruction, even though he was her oldest and best friend at Hogwarts.

She took a deep breath, she was almost there now. The whole corridor was dark, and for a moment, she considered turning back and forgetting about the whole thing. But she didn't want to turn back, didn't want to pretend like she didn't want this, didn't want _him_. 

Because as wrong and stupid as it was, right now she wanted this more than anything else. She had tried to ignore the effect he had on her for years, had never told anyone that he had appeared in her fantasies more than once, had barely even wanted to admit it to herself. But now that the opportunity to make those fantasies reality had presented itself, she couldn't pretend any longer. She wanted this, wanted him, and she would let nothing stand in her way: not her friends, who would have undoubtedly told her that she was making a mistake, not the childish house rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin, not even her own gut feeling telling her that she should turn around and get as far away from him as possible.

Ten more steps. Then five. Then her hand was on the doorknob, turning it. She was calmer now than she had been all evening. This was the moment. She had had similar experiences with Quidditch matches: as soon as her broom was airborne, she could focus on the match and forget about her previous apprehension.

She opened the door and there he was: tall, handsome, with dark hair and dark eyes, his pale skin in stark contrast to his black school robes. Tom Riddle. He didn't look surprised at seeing her, not even curious, as though he'd known she couldn't resist him.

"You're here."

It was a statement, not a question.

"I am."

She turned towards the door and locked it with a tap of her wand. She was taking a risk, yes, but whatever was about to happen would stay in this room, she would make sure of that.

She turned back around. He was still standing in the same place, one eyebrow raised, watching her. Soft light was emanating from the single candle on the far side of the room, giving his features a warm glow that made him even more beautiful.

"I already made sure no sound can leave the room." 

His voice sounded pleasant, but there was no love in it, no friendship, not even empathy. It was soft and ice-cold, but addicting, oh so addicting. She nodded once, then placed her wand on the table next to her. It wasn't that she thought she'd need it, exactly—but she still felt safer knowing her wand was within reach.

For a moment, they were just standing there, then he smiled at her. His smile was as cold as his voice, but all the more dangerous for it, and it was for her alone. One corner of her mind was wondering what on earth she was doing, urging her to stop, but she had already decided to follow her decision through. She had decided to come here, knowing full well what he wanted, knowing that she wanted it, too. They were both adults, were they not? He was almost 18, and she had come of age a month ago, so there was nothing wrong with it. Just a bit of fun. A bit of excitement.

She opened her robe to reveal that she wasn't wearing much underneath it, just dark stockings held up by a panty girdle, and her best brassiere. She had chosen the outfit carefully, looking forward to having the chance to show off her body. Her muscles were well-defined thanks to years of playing Quidditch, and she took a lot of pride in how strong they made her look. She let her robe fall to the floor, then took out her hairpin and her long, dark hair came tumbling down her back.

Tom was staring at her, something close to hunger in his eyes, and she loved it, loved the fact that she had captivated him—Tom Riddle, who had so many admirers, whom so many had tried and failed to woo. And he had invited _her_ , was staring at her body, it felt bloody amazing.

Minerva took a few steps towards him and boldly pressed her lips to his. He pulled her towards himself, and she opened her mouth for him, her hands in his dark hair. He was an experienced kisser, she could tell that right away. He wasn't awkward or clumsy like some other people his age, and he clearly knew what he wanted and what he was doing. Minerva couldn't help but hope that the confidence that was evident in all of his movements now wouldn't vanish later on, because she had hardly ever experienced anything that turned her on so much. Tom's tongue was teasing her own lightly, his hands were exploring her back, his touches delicate yet deliberate. 

He stopped kissing her way too soon.

"Why are you here, Minerva?"

She looked at him, slightly out of breath, confused at the question. _He_ was the one who had sent _her_ a note!

"Isn't that obvious?"

The need that was evident in her voice took her by surprise, so much for appearing calm and collected. The look in his eyes was inscrutable as he watched her, for some reason only increasing her desire for him.

"I want to hear it from you."

Suddenly, Minerva understood his meaning, and the shadow of a mischievous grin appeared on her lips. Very well, she could certainly play this game. She never once averted her eyes as she spoke.

"I want you to undress me," she breathed, her heart pounding in anticipation. "I want you to touch me, I want you to taste me..." 

There was a certain feeling of vulnerability that came with voicing her desires, but it was the kind of vulnerability that made her heart beat faster and sent shivers down her spine. 

For a moment, he didn't move, then he started kissing her again. Something in his behaviour had changed, not very noticably, but to Minerva it seemed as though he had been holding back before. She didn't have much time to ponder this thought, though; Tom was maneuvering her towards the nearest desk, lifting her onto it easily. She somehow managed to get rid of her shoes before she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer towards her. He opened her brassiere with one skilled hand and she let it fall to one side rather carelessly. He stopped kissing her then in order to get a good long look at her. Minerva leaned back, relishing being watched by him. She had always liked her body, and she didn't get to flaunt it very often. A grin spread over her face when she saw the hungry look in his eyes again. 

It felt so good to be desired, desired by Tom Riddle no less. He was the most attractive person at Hogwarts by far, a walking mystery, powerful beyond measure; and he was admiring her body, wanting her, needing her. Her toes curled at the thought. If his kisses were any indication, she was in for a memorable night. His hands ghosted over her breasts; his touches light and teasing, making her shiver. Her nipples had always been sensitive, and every time he touched them her breath hitched in her throat. He started kissing her again, softly at first, but soon his lips became more demanding. 

Minerva melted into him, eyes shut tight, her mind singularly occupied by the sensations he was giving her: his tongue exploring her mouth, her teeth, her lips; one of his hands had found its way to the back of her neck, fingers digging into her skin. His touch was confident, like he knew exactly what effect he had on her: that she was unable to resist him, that rational thought abandoned her when he touched her, that she knew she shouldn't be doing this with him but couldn't help herself, that she felt in her heart that he was dangerous but had decided to go to him anyway. He bit her lower lip and a whimper escaped her throat. 

She wanted to touch him, wanted to explore his whole body with her hands, but they had stopped obeying her some time ago. All she could do was to hold onto him, one hand in his gorgeous hair, the other on his back, to make sure that she didn't lose her balance, that he stayed close to her, so wonderfully close yet not nearly close enough.

He pinched her nipple lightly and Minerva shuddered, sighing. She was so wet for him already, every cell in her body screaming for him, her desire almost made her head spin.

Tom was still fully clothed, and she wasn't sure if she wanted him to undress. Under normal circumstances, she wanted to feel her partner's skin against hers, wanted to feel his body, his breath, his warmth; but this were not normal circumstances. It felt wrong, being almost completely naked, legs spread wide, the fabric between them soaking wet, before someone who hadn't even taken off his robes. It felt wrong, wonderfully, deliciously wrong, and there was a slight vulnerability about it, the kind that made her body shiver and her heart beat faster and her blood rush towards her abdomen, making her yearn for him, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside her; she wished he would get on with it.

A moment later, as though he'd heard her thoughts, his lips began to wander down her neck, soft on her skin but the sensation so intense it made her shake with barely suppressed desire. She breathed in his beautiful scent as he explored her collarbones, drawing lazy patterns on her skin with the tip of his tongue. Her legs were clasped around his hips, acutely aware of the dense fabric of his robes against the soft silk of her stockings. It was an exhilarating feeling, being exposed like this; her head was spinning at the thought of the things to come, and her clit was itching in the way it always did when she desired someone. The need for someone to touch the most intimate part of her body, she usually had to suppress it, or use her own hand as a substitute. Not so today. There was a big difference between touching oneself and being touched by another, and she had been forced to go without intimacy for a while. She was surprised how much she had missed it, how much she was craving it now.

His lips had reached her sternum, and to Minerva's delight they were still descending. Tom supported his weight with one hand on the table, the other drifted down to her waist as he took one of her nipples in his mouth, first circling it with his tongue, then gently sucking on it. She sighed with pleasure, wishing the moment would last forever, yet at the same time she had to fight the urge to grab his head and show him that she needed his tongue on a wholly different part of her body...

He was taking his sweet time, as though he was determined to commit every inch of her skin to memory, and in that moment she loved him for it, with the kind of love that lasted only hours, the kind that burned hot and numbed everything else in its intensity, the kind that would make her feel both glorious and ashamed the next morning. But that was an eternity away.

Little moans escaped her with every flick of his tongue against the sensitive skin of her nipples; his fingers were exploring the small of her back, her waist, her stomach, never straying too low, his touches very gentle, driving her crazy. She wanted him to finally touch her in earnest, his fingers inside her, wanted him to bend her over and have his way with her.

"Touch me," she pleaded desperately, her voice dark with desire.

"I am touching you," he murmured against her skin, making her shiver. As if to prove his point, he caressed her stomach, his fingertips light as a feather, following her waistline along the seam of her girdle.

"You know what I mean," she gasped, grabbing his hand and pushing it downwards, "I want your fingers inside of me..."

Those few inches between her stomach and her hot centre felt like an eternity. She couldn't keep herself from gasping loudly when she finally felt him where she wanted to feel him most, although he was obviously teasing her. His touches were still light, her skin separated from his fingers by a layer of fabric. She was sure he knew what his restraint was doing to her, and she both loved and hated him for it; loved and hated that he had so easily assumed control over her body, that she was so utterly vulnerable before him, so desperate for him to touch her. 

The intensity of her feelings would have shocked her if she hadn't been so distracted by what Tom was doing to her; somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered that she wasn't supposed to feel anything when it came to him, that she had come here looking for a single night of pleasure, easy to forget, just to get him out of her system, after secretly lusting after him for so long.

She wasn't supposed to love him. She wasn't supposed to hate him.

His fingers were caressing her inner thighs just above her stockings, his touch burning like fire on her bare skin, why on earth had she worn that stupid girdle anyway? It had to go right now, she couldn't take this any more, she needed him now, right now.

All of the sudden, he stopped what he was doing and took a half a step away from her, leaving her bereft and confused for a horrible moment. Then he moved his hands to zip open her girdle and the only thought left in her mind was, _Finally_. Just like before, his movements were deliberate and unhurried, the only evidence of his lust for her the look in his eyes. He opened the clips that held her stockings in place, and helped her take the girdle off expertly. Very briefly, Minerva wondered how many other girls he had done this with, but rather than to put her off, the thought just added to her excitement. He was just how she'd imagined him to be, so experienced and confident, exactly what she had hoped for.

Her legs were tingling where he touched her when he removed the cumbersome piece of clothing, and she couldn't wait for the moment she would be able to spread them for him; she bit her lip, eyes half closed. 

She was still wearing her stockings, though, and those should probably go before they continued. She held one leg out towards him suggestively, and Tom caressed her thigh, but made no move to take her stocking off.

"I quite like seeing you in these, actually. I want you to keep them on."

Well, she wasn't about to argue. 

Leaning back, Minerva spread her legs slowly, watching the reaction on his face while she did so. There was that hungry look again that turned her on so much; she needed him inside her, needed him so much. She expected him to make her wait again, but to her delight this wasn't what he had in mind. 

His fingers were caressing her slick folds within mere moments, and she leaned forward to kiss him passionately. His lips felt different than before, more selfish somehow, his kisses more animalistic; she could feel the wetness dripping out of her. The touch of his fingers was still light, however, exploratory; familiarising himself with the most intimate part of her body, learning the shape of her soft folds, determined to find all of her weak spots. Minerva gasped when he brushed her clit with his fingertips; her eyes were closed tightly again, all her focus on him. His tongue dancing around hers, claiming her mouth as his own, his body so close to her own, his beautiful scent encompassing her, his heavenly fingers touching her.

With one hand, she gripped the table's edge behind her to secure her position, the other was in Tom's dark hair, driven by the need to pull him even closer towards her.

"Need you... inside me," she begged breathlessly, her voice unexpectedly hoarse.

It was a wonderful sensation: feeling her body open up to his touch as one of his fingers was slowly gliding into her, filling the void inside her. But it wasn't enough, she needed more; there seemed to be not enough air in the room, her head felt light, almost like she was floating.

He was nibbling on her lower lip as he added a second finger, and she couldn't help but moan loudly. His thumb was drawing lazy circles on her clit, teasing her, driving her insane, she was so close, _so close_... 

Her breathing was ragged, her fingers were grabbing the table so hard she almost couldn't feel them. She thought he was enjoying doing this to her, building up the tension inside her and denying her release, he could bring her over the edge so easily if he wanted to, but he was making her wait; and she could do nothing about it, her body under his control, and she loved every second of it, more than she cared to admit to herself, so much more.

His lips started trailing down her neck, slowly but steadily, and his touch felt like fire on her sensitive skin. He kissed her collarbone softly, and his lips were still descending. She moaned when he took one of her breasts into his mouth, leaning further back to allow him better access. Her legs were shaking when the pressure of his thumb on her clit lessened, he couldn't stop _now_ , not when she was almost there. 

She was whimpering helplessly. Oh, this was torture, horrible torture, why was she enjoying it so much? Her head was spinning as he placed kisses on her stomach, his lips moving agonizingly slowly, her whole body was shaking, low moans emerging from her throat. 

Minerva's arm refused to support her weight any longer, and she fell on her back rather gracelessly, her head hanging off the edge of the table, mouth half-open, eyelids fluttering. He only needed a moment to adjust to her new position, his lips so close now, driving everything else from her mind. She could feel his fingers rhythmically curling against her inner walls, the movement steady and unhurried. One of her hands found the edge of the table next to her head, grasping at it again, needing to hold onto something; she was about to come any second now, if he just _hurried up_!

He kissed the inside of her thigh before bringing his tongue to her slick folds, worshipping her, driving her right to the edge. She was whimpering, not even able to beg at this point, unable to form words, her fingers were gripping the table so hard it almost hurt, but she couldn't have cared less.

And then, just when she thought she couldn't bear it any more, his mouth was on her swollen clit, and with a few flicks of his tongue she came undone.

Her orgasm shook her whole body violently, for a moment she was seeing stars. Sounds were coming out of her mouth, moans maybe, she wasn't sure. Her legs were trembling as hot waves of pleasure rippled through her. She could feel his fingers still inside her, his lips against the base of her thigh, kissing her gently.

Nobody had ever made her feel like this, Minerva thought, as she was slowly returning to reality. Her body was still shaking, her skin tingling; breathing seemed so much harder than it usually was. 

She inhaled sharply as he removed his fingers, still sensitive from what he had just done to her. Her body felt so empty without them, then again she really did need a break.

She opened her eyes in time to see him take out his wand and clean up the mess on the table before her with a non-verbal spell. Her fingers were letting go of the table on their own accord, and now she noticed how much they were hurting. She tried to sit up, albeit not very successfully. Her legs were absolutely useless, and she almost lost her balance when she tried to support her weight with only the one hand that wasn't hurting. Tom caught her just in time, and she leaned against him gratefully.

"You want something to drink?"

She nodded against his shoulder, not quite trusting her voice to be able to form complete words yet. He conjured a goblet out of nowhere with a twirl of his wand and she caught it effortlessly with her good hand; a small feat even in this state thanks to years and years of playing Quidditch.

"Aguamenti," Tom mumbled, pointing his wand at the goblet.

She gulped down more than half of the water before her mouth started to feel normal again.

"Wow," she said, still a bit hoarse. "That was..." Her voice trailed off, she wasn't quite sure which word adequately described this situation. 

She looked at him, a smile on her lips. He smiled back at her, but there was something in his eyes that she could only describe as scientific interest. His eyes weren't kind or gentle, not that she had really expected that, but it was still... worrying. Terrifying. Exhilarating.

His hands were gentle, that much was true, but that wasn't because he had a gentle heart, she was almost sure of it. Deep inside her she felt the urge to run, run as far away from him as possible; but that very impulse made the whole thing so damn exciting.

Minerva's body was calming down slowly, her breathing returning to normal, her legs tingling as the numbness started to vanish. She was still leaning against Tom while he was running his fingers through her hair, placing light kisses on her temple.

"Tell me what you want."

It wasn't a command, not quite, but close enough to make her shiver. It took a moment for her to understand her own reaction. She wasn't supposed to be turned on by that tone of voice, but she was, oh, she was. 

What did she want? She wanted _him_ , that much was certain, even more now than before, instincts be damned. Maybe she shouldn't have come here in the first place, but it was too late to change anything. And there was no reason to stop _now_ , not after what he had just done to her.

Minerva looked into his eyes confidently, almost smiling. She'd made her choice.

"I want you to fuck me until I scream."

**Author's Note:**

> If you are wondering how Tom always seemed to know exactly what Minerva wanted him to do: I'm pretty sure he started practicing Legilimency while he was still at Hogwarts... And I doubt that Minerva's thoughts were particularly hard to read that night.


End file.
